The cave was pitch black, but Archie could still see Blanche clearly. He watched her squeeze her chapped red lips together. The enukin were out in the snow somewhere, but Archie wasn't afraid of them. He needed to find the yeti's grove, but he wasn't stressed out about it. No emotions existed except for those that flowed freely back and forth between him and Blanche. A mumbling voice came from deeper inside the cave, but Archie ignored it. He leaned his face toward hers and—

"—you students do all day? Sleep?"

Archie opened his eyes and the cave disappeared. Blanche disappeared. Desire turned into annoyance as Arty rapped his knuckles on Archie's foot.

"I thought y'all would wake up early to get a good spot in the kitchen," Arty continued.

"It's still the summer," Archie groaned as he rolled over and put his pillow over his head.

"It may be summer, but that doesn't mean there aren't learning opportunities. We have some of the best talent from across all of United Ambrosia here for a few days, we gotta get cracking!"

"Later. I sleep now."

Arty pinched one of Archie's toes. "Sleep later. We've got a White Jacket waiting to give us a private lesson."

Archie kicked his father's hand away and pulled his pillow aside. "A White Jacket?! Who?"

"Head Chef Andouille. From the College of Pitmasters. He heard about my Kuutsan supplier and wanted to show me a couple of things. I told him to wait, that I was gonna get my son. He's in the kitchen now, so come on."

"Alright, alright." Archie put his hand up on the top bunk so that he wouldn't hit his head on his way out of bed. He should have worried about something else—as soon as he stood, Arty threw Archie's wadded up jacket in his face.

Archie caught the jacket as it slid off his face, smiling as the kalypo fibers turned yellow, not orange.

"Where are your roommates?" Arty asked as Archie got dressed.

"Oliver is half-nocturnal. Works late. He usually gets in around now and sleeps until lunch. Barley gets up early and does his morning prayers by the lake. Benedict is probably putting a shift in at Blue Orchards before it gets too hot outside."

"And you're sleeping your life away," Arty sighed, half joking around, half criticizing in a balance that only a father could pull off.

"I'm up, aren't I?" Archie finished clasping the buckles along his side and straightened his jacket. "Now let's go."

They walked through the lounge full of students from other schools and up to the main building's kitchen.

"There he is!" a White Jacket said as Arty entered with Archie in tow. The man was short with a messy carpet of a beard that turned gray below his mouth, and he wore a white beret that matched his white jacket, the fabric of which was stretched into a big white ball by his gut. But most noticeable of all was his voice. It was one of the most peculiar things Archie had ever heard. Archie imagined that the best way to recreate it would be to grab a frog and wring it out like a wet cloth. It had the slightest bit of the north Labruscan lilt to it, but the nasally baritone made it seem like a parody rather than the real thing. "This must be your son."

"That's right," Arty said as he motioned to Archie. "Sleeping late, you know how teenagers are. Thanks for waiting."

Archie smiled, but that wasn't enough for Arty, who elbowed him in the ribs. "Thanks for waiting, Head Chef Andouille."

"Aw please, call me Andy. No Head Chef, neither. I don't work for the College, just representing the Bayuk."

"I'm Archie," Archie said with a deep bow. The only other White Jacket he had ever had an extended interaction with was the Bhantla, and he could already tell he'd like Andy more.

"Ha!" Andy yelled, making Archie flinch. "Andy, Arty, and Archie! Big three boutta make a big meal!"

Arty walked up to Andy and patted his back as if they were old friends. Some of Andy's south Kuutsan accent spread to Arty's voice. "Alright, Andy! What are we making?"

Andy clapped his hands. "Gonna be cookin' Bayuk style."

Archie quickly discovered that he had to watch the man's mouth and give him full attention to understand what he was saying. And even then, he couldn't be sure. "Bayuk?"

"Yee, you don't know 'bout Bayuk cookin'?" A moment of Archie's silence was all it took for Andy to keep going. "From the Labruscan term, bayou. Also known as swamp cookin'. Also known as the best damn cookin' in the world."

Archie grinned. "So are you the best Bayuk Chef?"

"Well, not to brag, but I'd say I'm third on everyone's list."

"Third?"

"Well, you ask any Kuutsan fella who the best Bayuk Chef is, they'll say, 'my poppop during crawfish season, my meemaw the rest of the time. And if neither of them are around, I'll take Andy.'" He laughed and stopped as quickly as he had started. "Say, y'all got crawfish in Sain?"

Arty laughed. "Seen some a few miles west. Not many, but they're there."

"Aw man, that's what I oughta be teachin' ya to make. Outta season now, though. Tell you what, at the start of next summer, I'll make a trip to Sain and teach you how to make 'em right. Been meaning to see that tree anyway."

Arty put a hand around Archie's shoulder. "My son is the one that brought the tree."

"Aw damn!" Andy shouted as he slapped his thigh and held a hand out for Archie to shake. "I heard stories 'boutcha! Well it's an honor to meetcha, young man."

Archie blinked. A White Jacket was honored to meet him? There weren't even ten White Jackets in the world. Who was Archie to earn one's respect? The thought was so shocking that he forgot all social convention, just staring at the man's pudgy hand. Arty cleared his throat, waking Archie up from his trance. He shook Andy's hand and bowed his head. "The honor is all mine."

"Well, Archie, whaddya say we get cookin'?"

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Archie looked around and realized they had the attention of half the kitchen. Everyone wanted to see Andy cook—and Archie got to cook with him. "Let's do it!"

Andy grabbed a white onion from a wooden bowl and tossed it high in the air to Archie. "First thing you gotta understand about Bayuk cooking is the holy trinity."

Archie caught the onion and swore he could feel extra essence where Andy's hand had been. "What's that?"

Andy tossed a green bell pepper next, forcing Archie to shuffle his hands around to catch it. Luckily, Andy set the stalks of celery down on the counter instead of throwing them. "Some people say you ain't got Bayuk cooking without the holy trinity. That's onion, green peppas, and celery. Now dice those up real nice."

Archie found a knife as Andy supplied Arty with another set of ingredients. He cut as quickly as he dared in an attempt to impress the White Jacket, who whistled.

"Pretty good knife skills for a Yella Jacket," he said. "Watch this one, now."

Andy set an onion on the counter and slammed his hand down on it as if crushing garlic. The onion split into perfect cubes, the skin sticking to his hand in one big piece that he discarded. He picked up a stalk of celery and slapped it on the counter, dismantling it into cubes as well.

"Now, bell peppas're little tougher," he said as he yanked on the stem of the pepper, pulling out the center core and membrane. He squished and rolled the pepper until it folded flat in his hands, then gave it one last push to dice it.

Archie was dumbstruck at how easy Andy had made it seem.

Arty was eager to try it for himself. He slapped the onion so hard it made the counter shake, and while it didn't dice into cubes, it did split into sloppy slices.

"Oh-ho-hey-now!" Andy hollered. "That was pretty good!"

Arty grinned and started cutting. "I think I'll go with the knife from here."

Archie frowned and wished he had tried Andy's method. "How long did it take for you to be able to do that?" he asked.

"Ah, by the time I gottem diced in one move, I musta been outta the College." Andy slid the three ingredients into a glass bowl. "You know what the secret is? Practice. I couldn't hardly get 'em in cubes until I passed the onion challenge."

"Onion challenge?"

"Ol' Bayuk tradition," Andy laughed. "One knife, one Chef, one day, and a thousand onions."

"A thousand?! What do you even do with that much onion?"

"Ooooh, there's always a place for onion. First place for it is the holy trinity. Now comon, lemme see yours."

Archie put all of his ingredients in a bowl and showed it to Andy, who pursed his lips and nodded.

"Needs some brown," he said. "Y'all got sausage?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, grab some. Andouille if you got it, no joke intended." Despite his words, Andy laughed loudly enough to make Archie flinch. "Some chicken breast, too. Enough for all of us and then some."

Archie retrieved the meats and came back to find Andy and Arty grinding up a fine brown powder.

"Bayuk seasoning comes in two varieties," Andy explained. "You gotcha spicy and your not so spicy. Cut up those sausages while I talk. Today, we're doing spicy. Gotcha white pepper, black pepper, cayenne pepper, bell pepper, and some paprika. Looking to get some kick. And we want to blacken it. Now that's not burnt, that's blackened. You know about blackened redfish, Archie?"

Archie nodded as he cut up the sausage. "I've never had it, but I heard it's really good."

"Now what the—we gotta get you some fresh blackened redfish. I'm sure they got some somewhere in this big ass city."

Archie chuckled.

"Pan," Andy commanded. "Olive oil. Toss in your holy trinity and the sausage."

Archie pulled out three pans for the three Chefs, still in disbelief that he was cooking alongside a White Jacket. The vegetables and sausage sizzled in the hot oil as the summer sun sizzled in from the window.

"You came up with the recipe for blackened redfish, didn't you?" Arty asked.

"Mmmhm. I mean, my meemaw made it for me when I was a kid. And her meemaw made it for her. Something like it, anyway. Get this garlic in there." Andy tossed an unpeeled, uncrushed clove of garlic at Archie's pan. By the time it landed, the peel had vanished and the impact made it split into a dozen cuts. "I was just the first one in my family to put it in writin'. You know why, Archie?"

Archie shook his head as he stirred the garlic in.

"'Cuz I was the first one that learned how to write!" Andy tilted his head back and roared with laughter, nearly losing his hat. "Man, once that recipe went out, we done nearly fished out all the redfish in the gulf. That was some twenty years ago. I think Beau was still viceroy. Him and whoever Verjus's daddy was had to work things out together to keep people from overfishing. Got some fish farms to take care of things, now. Cut a pocket in the chicken breast. Big enough to stuff all this in."

Archie made the cut and showed Andy. "Like this?"

Andy scoffed and shoved Archie's shoulder, leaving behind a handprint of celery and sausage. "We gonna be EATIN'. Cut it bigger. I want all of this in there. Yeah, Arty, like that. Say, what kind of food do you make in Sain? You're one of the big restaurants there, right?"

"The biggest—once upon a time," Arty said.

"And will be again soon," Archie added.

Arty shrugged. "I don't know that we have any signature style. Lots of Labruscan-inspired cuisine, of course. Some Kuutsan-style when we catch a deer. Urokan if we got fish. Khalyan not as much, but some families love their fermented fish."

"Ah, typical Platterian fare, then? Buncha stuff from other places thrown together?" Andy said with jestful disdain.

"We find a way to make it our own," Arty countered.

"Now I know a Bayuk Chef didn't just say that," a third voice added. Archie turned to see a Labruscan Purple Jacket enter the kitchen with a Urokan Purple Jacket. She was clearly trying to put poison in her voice, but she couldn't coat the sweetness completely. Everything about her seemed sweet, from her honey-blonde hair to her subtle wrinkles to her tiny frame. "Considering Bayuk cooking is just Labruscan cooking that's been marinated in a swamp and cooked to a uniform brown."

"Marjoram," Andy stated as he narrowed his eyes at the two women. "Tamarind."

"Good to see you, Andy!" the Urokan Chef squeaked. She beamed with a bright smile that revealed hidden wrinkles, black strands of hair escaping her bun and getting caught in the crooks of her face. The Labruscan Chef glared at her companion. "Sorry, Marje," the Urokan Chef muttered, even her whispering sounding like a squeaky door.

"While Tammy here thinks it's good to see you, I think it's dreadful to listen to you," Marje said. "I could hear you bloviating all the way from the great hall."

Andy dragged his hat off his head and stepped toward Marje. Archie took a step back and pulled Arty back by the elbow. Whether it came to magical or physical blows, Archie didn't like the women's odds. Andy had three ranks on them and at least two hundred pounds. He was big enough to grab both of them in one fell swoop.

Which he did.

Andy burst into laughter as he hugged a woman in each arm. "Now what the hell does bloviate mean?" he roared as he laughed. Tammy giggled and hugged back, and while Marje wriggled free, she couldn't completely hide her smile.

"It means you talk too much," Marje said. She looked Andy up and down. "Just like you eat too much. You've gotten bigger."

"Ah, I only eat too much because I make too much. The kitchen's been non-stop. I just taste while I cook, and by the time the day's over, I've had damn near a dozen meals."

Marje scoffed. "When it's time to go back to Kuutsu Nuna, you should walk. Or do your pilgrimage when you get there or something."

Tammy shoved Marje. "Oh, lay off him. If we cooked as good as him, we'd look the same way."

Andy and Tammy exchanged warm smiles, but Marje didn't let it last. "I'd take him in a cooking contest any day of the week," she said.

"Well how about today, darling?" Andy asked. "Let's the three of us have a little competition. I'll show you that Bayuk is just better Labruscan, and maybe Tammy will show us that Urokan is the way to go. Archie here can judge."

Marje sighed and looked at Tammy, whose sparkling smile answered for them. "Fine. Let's do it."

"Count me in!" Arty said from the other side of the kitchen.

Archie couldn't help but to laugh. This was a battle between elite Chefs—and a Yellow Jacket in his forties. Arty didn't stand a chance. But he grinned as if he belonged, and the other Chefs welcomed his challenge.

Andy clapped his hands in approval. "Alright, Arty reppin' The Platter! Looks like we got ourselves a good ol' cook-off!"

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